


Below Zero

by Nilysil



Category: Warframe
Genre: Combi-genitalia, M/M, Mawframe, Non-Human Genitalia, Non-canon biology, Other, Temperature Play, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilysil/pseuds/Nilysil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scavenging for parts can be a long and grueling task, especially for a party of two. So they have some fun in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Below Zero

Metal screeches as the frost pulls the crumpled shape of a fusion moa away from the doorway. It grinds against the blood splattered floor, it’s loose leg pushes against the decapitated corpse of a crewman. His partner, a hydroid, Soma, stands off on one side staring at the hallway ahead of them; they still have a lot of area to search. Cre’tova, the frost, growls in the direction of the hydroid – getting his attention. Cre’tova motions to the moa in the doorway. Soma joins his efforts.

Eventually they both shove the destroyed fusion moa away from the door – it’s fieldron core exposed, severely damaged. Nothing to salvage.

With the large moa out of the way they walk into the room, splitting their search for salvage material. Of on one wall laid in a heap is what appears to be a mostly intact Moa; Soma investigates. He flips it to face the floor, using his serrated claws to carve through the Moa’s shell. Cre’tova browses the shelving units and a worktable.  
Loose circlets of wiring, boxes of bolts, sheets of alloy, the various basic components for circuits and other Corpus tech. Nothing that’d be worth reselling for their cluster.

Cre’tova looks over at the hydroid knelt down across the room; an idea springs to mind. In one hand he collects a small handful of small bolts and throws one at the hydroid’s back. Soma doesn’t flinch, Cre’tova pelts him with another before leaning against a bullet riddled wall. He retains his concentrating on scratching through the remains of the moa, Soma only makes an occasional grunt at the pelting, keeping his focus on separating the moa’s system from its fieldron core. The frost continues to pelt him with an occasional bolt, until he runs out.

With a sigh Cre’tova pushes himself off the wall. He makes another pass at through the rows of spare parts and miscellaneous items, then another pass as Soma takes his time. After a third pass Cre’tova settles for leaving the room, setting himself with his back against the wall by the door. The scratching of Soma’s claws on metal echoes through the empty bloodied halls; the only other sounds come from the vents in Cre’tova’s arms.

A while later Soma is finished extraction the fieldron from the moa. The hydroid comes out of the room with it tucked beneath an arm. Cre’tova looks over at him, Soma nods, and the frost pushes himself off the wall; they walk their way back through the hallway, one of the many they’ve gone through today. They drop it off just off of the main entryway, stacking the fieldron beside a cart of oxium and a small stack of energy shells.

Cre’tova gives Soma a nudge in the side.

The hydroid looks back to the taller frost. For a moment they stand there motionless, staring at each other with an occasional small head tilt or minute movement – there’s a chirp, it’s from Cre’tova. They continue their silent conversation as they start down a different hallway, one that eventually leads to a different hallway lined with windows on one side.

And when they arrive, Cre’tova presses Soma up against the opposing wall.

Soma’s claws drag across the frost’s sides in search for seams, the frost goes the same to him. With a partly formed maw the frost nips at the hydroid’s chin and moves across Soma’s jawline. The creases of Soma’s own maw begin to form while he concentrates on seeking out the seams at Cre’tova’s sides. Cre’tova trails his nipping downward, nipping at the hydroid’s surface tubing where Soma tentatively resists; his claws curl against the frost’s smooth pelt.

The frost breathes out a gust of cold air in the crook of his partner’s neck, forcing Soma to press the frost away from his neck … for the time being. A small series of chirps sound from the frost: amused. He pauses his seam search for the hydroid to resume his own. By now Soma’s maw has fully formed, and he nips at the edge of the frost’s maw, his claws pressing against Cre’tova’s pelt. One claw slides against a forming seam in the frost’s side and rubs against the outer boundary as his other hand pins down the seam on his other side.

As Soma works towards gaining access into the frost’s vents Cre’tova resumes his own search, caressing the hydroid’s rigid sides for seams. His rounded finger tips have an easier time finding them, and it doesn’t take long for Cre’tova to gain access into Soma’s vents. A grumble from the hydroid.

The frost’s fingers move against the hydroid’s inner tendrils. For a moment the frost’s fingers go to an almost freezing, sending a shiver up the hydroid’s spine. And a sharp breath.

While his fingers explore the hydroid’s soft insides Cre’tova presses his closed maw against the hydroid’s neck. Soma grumbles, he releases the frost’s barely open seams and hooks his arms over the frost’s shoulders. Cre’tova releases another cold breath onto the hydroid’s neck; Soma’s response a shaking sigh, a following growl in his throat. His claws move along the back of the frost’s neck; there might be a seam back there.

He searches through another slow chilling breath against the underside of his throat; Soma doesn’t suppress a groan. At the area between the frost’s head and the frost’s body he finds an open seam, knuckling against it as Cre’tova continues to tease in his sides. Cre’tova hooks his thumbs into the hydroid’s vents and presses the hydroid flat against the wall; Soma growls, his head tilted to one side.

The frost withdraws from the hydroid’s throat, going eye to eye with his partner. Cre’tova’s maw is partly open, his bright blue maw tendrils stick between his plated fangs. Soma leans back against the wall, and lets Cre’tova proceed.

The frost starts where he left off, with his maw breathing against the hydroid’s neck. From there he moves to the underside of Soma’s chin, nipping at the solid skin before he continues downwards. Soma’s hands remain at the seam in the back of the frost’s neck as he continues down to the top of Soma’s chassis, exploring with his maw tendrils for a seam, vent, either or, whatever he can find. There’s a shallow, shaky breath from Soma as Cre’tova’s maw crosses a splitting seam, his maw tendrils sneak around the sides.

The longest of Cre’tova’s maw tendrils slip into the seam, coiling against the hydroid’s inner tendrils as he breathes in cold air. Another shiver through Soma, a purr. Cre’tova presses further into the vents at the hydroid’s sides as his maw tendrils explore the exposed vent. Soma leans up against the frost, his head held back and maw clamped. A rumbling groan. Cre’tova leaves the open vent in search for another.

Within the vents at Soma’s sides Cre’tova’s fingers find the hydroid’s sensitive bundles, grazing them as he explores further down the hydroid’s chassis. A growling purr rolls through Soma as the frost persists, reverberating against Cre’tova’s wandering maw tendrils. Soma watches as Cre’tova moves further downwards, almost knelt, his maw near where his fingers are deep inside two of his vents. He can feel himself splitting further down.

Instead of moving downwards Cre’tova moves himself back upwards, revisiting the open vent he found at Soma’s chassis and the barely parted on beside it. His cold breath breathes against it, Soma’s claws curl against the vent in the back of the his head. Soma slides his claws into the vent beneath the frost’s head, where the frost’s internal tendrils coil against them.

Cre’tova tends to the freshly open vent as Soma searches the frost’s vent for his bundle, his claws moving slowly within the frost. The only notice Soma has that he found it is a barely audible purr, one he feels blown into his open vent. The hydroid bites back a moan, intertwining his fingers inside the frost’s vent and among the numerous swirling tendrils.

A hand once engaging with one of the hydroid’s side vents slips out and begins moving downwards between the front hanging fins. Cre’tova’s touch is cold again; his fingers graze the splitting seam of Soma’s slit.  
He can’t bite it back.

Soma melts, figuratively, against the hand cupping his front. The frost’s hand radiates a chill up into the hydroid’s spine, a quaking enhanced by rubbing the hydroid’s bundles with his tendril and hand. Cre’tova removes his maw from the hydroid’s vent soon after, they look at each other in silence. A conversation. Soma’s hands withdraw from the vent in Cre’tova’s neck, Cre’tova leaves the vents and slit.

And Cre’tova pulls Soma onto the middle of the hallway and to the ground.

On the floor Soma straddles the frost, his claws grazing along the smooth skin in search for an unopened seam. Cre’tova does the same, but his hands trail against the spires jutting out of the sides of the hydroid’s waist. The seams along the hydroid’s spires split easily; Cre’tova’s seams, not so much. Soma huffs. Cre’tova growls.

Removing one hand from the frost’s chest, Soma pulls out a tentacle summon. Cre’tova continues playing with the tendrils within the hydroid’s spires as black tentacles spawn around them; Soma rubs his split slit up against Cre’tova’s unopened one, a low growl.

Four of the many tentacles coil up against the frost’s chassis in search for his seams, two at his chest, two at his sides. Another four had coiled themselves up Soma’s sides and buried themselves into his open vents, rolling themselves occasionally against the inner bundle.

A ninth tentacle joins, worming itself in between the two at the slits, or slit and seam. Soma rocks himself against the slimy tentacle as the others search the frost for seams, his hands flat against Cre’tova’s center. Cre’tova’s hands keep themselves entertained with the innards of the hydroid’s spires. He grins.

A chilling bubble bursts into existence around them, freezing the tentacles in their place. Within Soma, against Cre’tova, between their slits. Soma whimpers, in an instant filled with a frozen chill; his hips rock. Cre’tova’s cold fingers, made even colder by the globe, delve deeper into the hydroid’s spires as they barely move - Soma’s been stuck in place by his own tentacles. Spread against a frozen tentacle, unable to move arms or legs; his maw hangs open, groaning, whining.

Just as fast as they were frozen the tentacles vanish; Cre’tova withdrew his globe.

From a sudden fullness to emptiness; it takes a moment for Soma to react. He releases a slow, shaking breath. His claws have dug into the frost’s thick skin, leaving a set of scratch marks on Cre’tova’s stomach. Neither notice them.  
Cre’tova removes his fingers from the hydroid’s spires and takes Soma’s hands into his, moving them to rest over a set of splitting seams. He pushes himself up to give Soma better access without leaning over, leaning back on his own hands as the hydroid’s claws move against his seams. Soma seizes the chance, slipping his clawed fingers into the splitting seams and into the soft mass of tendrils beneath.

Soma plays with the tendrils as Cre’tova’s other seams split; the frost releasing occasional soft growls, his hand on the hydroid’s hip. Cre’tova lets the hydroid play within him as he concentrates on something else – something within him.

From the frost’s slit a mass of collected tendrils slowly emerge. The tendrils from Cre’tova’s slit tangle around each other into a soft mass, each part undulating and coiling out of a constant shape. The hand Cre’tova had at Soma’s side gently pushes down, pushing again when he doesn’t get the hydroid’s attention. Soma looks at him, Cre’tova nods, Soma looks down between them.

Soma is quiet as he watches the undulating shape slip up between their slits.

Then Soma removes his fingers from the frost’s vents and moves himself a bit more forward, the frost’s side fins loop up and latch partly around Soma’s shins. Soma shifts himself into position, settling himself into a knelt position over Cre’tova. Both of Cre’tova’s hands go to the hydroid’s hips and gently guide him down, onto his squirming tentacle of tendrils.

Both of their maws hang open as the tendril mass moves its way into Soma’s slit, a moan bubbles up the receiver’s throat, his hands on Cre’tova’s hands. A soft moan here, a whimper there, until their slits are against each other, Cre’tova’s tendrils inside Soma. They take a moment to regain their composure and they start to move.

In and out the mass slides, tendrils squirm. Touching of a bundle, the squeezing around another. Soma releases Cre’tova’s hands to place his down on the frost’s stomach, pressing his slit up and down the moving mass. There’s a whine from Soma as one of Cre’tova’s cold fingers press into the vent at their side. It makes him buck harder, growling along with the low, partly caught in the throat, growls from Cre’tova.

As the pace increase Soma can barely hold himself up, putting his weight against the frost’ stomach. Cre’tova continues as long as he’s able, bucking up into Soma until they both run out of energy.

It takes a while for that to happen.


End file.
